


does anyone remember?

by quietdays



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-04-06 12:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14057121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietdays/pseuds/quietdays
Summary: It’s one of those nights again.





	1. sweden

**Author's Note:**

> alt title: or the one i try to channel my inner magical realist & unreliable narrator. working title + summary
> 
> i mean. ive always been someone who pens unreliable narrator but ive never did it with magical realism.
> 
> i'll try to finish this by next week. more of an exercise to see if i can handle a planned multicha + for me to finally drill into my fucking head that having long wordcounts isnt important at all. based off of one of my favorite albums tbh. slkdgjslgjsdlg real quietdays fic writing bonanza week starts this week! seeing as its holy week and i have (hopefully!!) a lot of free time!
> 
> havent edited nor proof-read. please bear with me lol sldkgjsdk this is so bad and i apologize for that really .

It’s one of those nights again.

His eyes open as if he’s been jolted by electricity and maybe he’s really been shocked by it. That’s not a far off scenario. Maybe he fell asleep in one place that he really shouldn’t sleep in and he accidentally got electrified to death. Maybe one of the stage lights fell upon him and he’s up here enjoying the afterlife while people back there looking at his all gored up body. A freak accident. _If that really did happen though_ , he chuckles, _he’d already be screaming at my body, telling me he saw this coming and calling me an idiot._

He looks around. If he’s learned anything in his life, it’s always to pay attention to everything around you. He sees nothing but blue and the darkness—not anything new though. This is a dream; he always wakes up like this. How many months has it been ever since he started waking up like this? Too many that he never bothers counting anymore. _Why count when you can enjoy the ride?_ He thinks, and then he starts swimming into nowhere.

He swims into the deep abyss, without a care in the world. It changes every night, but it he always knows where he is. So he swims without fear, without concern and for a moment his whole being relaxes.

Then since nothing good happens to him, he turns around and—

…

Lee Jihoon wakes up.

His head hurts but he ignores that. He’s been waking up every day with headaches that he’d actually be concerned if he didn’t wake up without one. His limbs and joints hurt but that’s something a little pain reliever won’t be able to fix. He wants to lie back in bed and sleep in more with Seokmin but the other isn’t already there and he’s definitely sure he’s needed at the studio at this moment. So against all his wishes, he gets out of bed, goes to his bathroom and starts his morning routine.

He stares at himself in the mirror, maybe a bit longer than necessary. His hand comes up and he feels his chin, wondering if he can get away without shaving. He takes a deep breath and an even deeper sigh, slouching forward. It’s been how many months? It feels like years and it has been years—but it feels like it’s been far too long. He blinks slowly at his reflection. He’s not getting any younger, but getting older feels like a chore—still light years away. Forget mid-life crisis.

He shakes away his thoughts, washes his face, and brushes his teeth. He heard last night that it’s Mingyu’s turn to cook breakfast and he’s never someone who turns down the offer of a hot homemade meal, especially since it’s rare to snag the chance to go home nowadays. So he continues brushing his teeth, almost mechanically.

He looks at his reflection again, his form gaunt and tired. Is this really him? He doesn’t recognize the person in front of him anymore. Perhaps the world has replaced all reflections with a doppelganger and no one thought to tell him of it. Maybe the person in front of him, even if how silly this idea is, isn’t him anymore but rather it’s a two way mirror and on the other side is an impersonator of him. He looks around, maybe a camera crew is about to barge into the door now?

Then he chuckles to himself, shakes away those silly thoughts. Maybe he’s been hanging around too much around Seokmin, not that it’s necessarily a bad thing. He looks again at his reflection, now there’s a faint smile on his lips and maybe he feels a little bit better about himself. He touches his chin once again.

Maybe he can get away without shaving today.

…

“You didn’t shave today.” is the first thing Jeonghan says when he enters the kitchen.

“Good morning Jihoon, how are you today? Oh, I’m fine. Thank you for askin’ Jeonghan.” Jihoon replies back. He is sitting in front of the table, a plate in front of him and currently is pouring himself a glass of orange juice. He looks at Jeonghan unamused. “Good mornin’ to you too.”

Jeonghan scoffs before sitting in front of him. “All right, no need to get all passive-aggressive on me.”

Jihoon has long finished his meal of scrambled eggs and bacon courtesy of one Kim Mingyu. He’s now too busy drinking orange juice so he just shrugs in reply to him. Jeonghan rests his chin on his hands and eyes him lazily. It’s unnerving to be at the receiving end of his stares. Jihoon feels the beginning of slight anxiousness forming at the back of his mind.

“Stop doing that.” Jihoon says as soon as he finishes drinking juice.

“Doing what?”

 _Staring at me like you’re fishing for my deepest secrets. No one has to know that,_ is what Jihoon wants to tell him but he’s a coward so he does not. Instead he says: “Staring at me like a creep. Why are you even doing that? What are you? A sasaeng? You see me every day Jeonghan.”

The other actually laughs loudly at that. Throws his whole back into it even. “Hey, careful now. What if they planted recording devices into our homes?”

Jihoon shrugs at him again. “Okay. With the money I make from my copyright of the songs, I probably can live comfortable when I get inevitably kicked out of the group.” Jihoon tells him, “You didn’t answer my first question.”

 Now it’s Jeonghan’s turn to shrug. “Can’t I stare at my favorite dongsaeng without any reason at all?”

Jihoon gives him an unamused look. Jeonghan laughs again.

“Just wondering.” Jeonghan admits. “Out of all of us, you’re probably the one who rarely skips out shaving.”

 “Seokmin likes it. You know that hyung.” Jihoon replies unabashedly and before the other can even use that as ammo against him, he looks at his phone and sees that he really is running late for the studio. “Fuck, gotta run. Bumzu’s probably waiting for me.” He stands up from his seat, gathers up his things and runs away. “See ya later. Might get home late though!”

“Wait!” Jeonghan blinks at him, surprised but Jihoon doesn’t even spare him even a single moment. A weakness here and it might mean getting teased for the rest of his idol life about how soft he is for Seokmin. “Who’s—“

Jihoon does not hear him. He’s already out the door, his face flushed red and the only thing his mind is filled with is Seokmin and the thought that he really can’t believe he just did that.

…

**to: sunshine**   
**from: moonshine**

can’t wait to see you later sdlfkjsf  
actually…. ahhhh can you swing by the studio later?  
if you’re free  
i really miss you

…

And maybe Jihoon is acting quite out of character right now but his whole being is filled with happiness and contentment and it doesn’t make sense! He smiles to himself, nodding in time with the beat he created. (The way he makes him feels—really unbelievable, incredible—how many nights did Jihoon stay up chasing after songs he left the beginning notes of?)

 Some hi-hats. Kick there. Maybe up the bass a bit?  The drum sample he recorded a while back would fit there (it does). Turn to his midi as the bones play with the full intent of adding a little bit more meat here. All improvised, nothing good ever comes from planning too far. A little bit of synth, funky—groovy. He tinkers around the beat more and when he feels like it’s done he takes another listen to it. It’s off in a few places but it’s okay for a warm up.

This isn’t exactly the song he wanted to make, but it’s infinitely better.

A hand on his shoulder breaks his thoughts out and Jihoon looks to see Bumzu looking at him amused. He says something but Jihoon does not hear it so he takes out the headphones from his ears.

“Hyung.” He says, “Why?”

“Just thought I’d make myself known.” Bumzu says, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Did something good happen? Usually at this point you’d be shouting at Cubase already for crashing on you.”

“Hyung.” Jihoon rolls his eyes. “I don’t do that.”

“Don’t lie to yourself Jihoon. How many times was I scared because I thought you might legitimately break our only Launchpad?”

“I’m sorry then.” is the only reply he can muster up, his cheeks already turning to the color red.

Bumzu laughs at him. The older messes up his hair before moving back to sit on the sofa. Jihoon turns around his office chair before resting his entire upper body on the back of it. God bless for chairs that are able to turn around without much difficulty.

“No worries kid.” Bumzu tells him, “Did something happen then? A girl, maybe?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Hyung.”

He raises an eyebrow. “A boy then?”

“Hyung,” Jihoon sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Don’t play games with me, you already know him.”

“Really? It’s one of Seventeen then?” Bumzu replies back. He looks far too curious that it really seems genuine. “Who is it then? Jeonghan? Soonyoung? Ah, it’s Seungcheol isn’t it? You’ve always been far too close to him.”

“Wha—!? No! Hyung. It’s Seokmin, did you forget?” Jihoon exclaims, looking surprised and a tiny bit annoyed. “You always see him and I always talk about him?”

Bumzu sits quietly. He regards Jihoon with confused eyes and almost an eternity passes by before he starts speaking again.

“Who?”

Ladies and Gentlemen. Words can truly break a person.

…

And he sits.

The warm smell of coffee wafts through the air. The café is bustling with energy and chatter. Lee Jihoon is too busy being on his phone.

(“Seokmin? I’m sorry Jihoon but—I’ve literally never heard of a Seokmin before.” Bumzu tilts his head. “Maybe you said it to someone else?”

“Hyung, is this a joke?” Is the only reply he can muster. “You know Lee Seokmin! One-third of gag trio, the man who literally completes the high notes of all my songs! One of the thirteen members of Seventeen?”

“What? Jihoon, are you okay?” Bumzu stares at him and Jihoon can’t see any trace of ingenuity in his eyes. He genuinely looks confused and worried for him and everything is a mess. “There’s only twelve members of Seventeen.”

Then he looks at his eyes again. He takes a moment.

“You know what hyung. I haven’t been feeling okay.” Jihoon tells him after a deep breath, ignoring the lump in his throat. “Maybe I should go back to the dorms and take a rest.”

“Maybe you should.” Bumzu nods, already standing up to take over Jihoon’s place. “I can handle the work today, so don’t worry.”)

Jihoon isn’t worrying about work. He’s too confused, is there a practical joke being played on him right now that’s being taken too far by Bumzu? He doesn’t know what to believe. Bumzu isn’t the type to play these kinds of joke on him. He knows he wouldn’t do this—he knows (knew) how much Jihoon loves Seokmin so the very thought of this joke—unthinkable.

But at this point, he doesn’t even fucking know what to believe anymore. He scrolls down his phone, looking at his gallery, looking at the internet and even looking at fucking Instagram and he sees nothing that can even hint at the existence of Lee Seokmin. Not even a tuft of hair, the shine of his eyes or the glint of his teeth. Even his folders aptly named “sunshine of my life” no longer exists anymore. Even in group pictures, official or not, no matter how many times he counts—it’s always twelve. Always twelve. never thirteen. Always something missing.

A cup of coffee that he ordered when he came in is put in front of him. He really wants to vomit. Seokmin really liked coffee.

…

He goes home, the beginning of tears in his eyes and he feels defeated. He just wants the day to end already and just go home and sleep underneath the covers with Seokmin by his side and that might not even happen because the world hates him and literally can never give him even a moment of peace—can’t even give him anything he wants.

(And what has he ever done to deserve this? Be a tad too cynical? Be a tad too dependent? This wasn’t fair. It was mutual. It was—it was.

It was.)

Funnily, he meets him again soon enough.


	2. coke head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i honestly dont know anymore. i'm doing my best. thank you.

[ERROR. MESSAGE UNSENT. NUMBER UNKNOWN.]

 **to: sunshine**  
**from: moonshine**

can’t wait to see you later sdlfkjsf  
actually…. ahhhh can you swing by the studio later?  
if you’re free  
i really miss you

…

“You’re gonna be late.”

A voice snaps him out of his sleep. Jihoon grumbles and turns around his bed. After the events of yesterday in where he almost humiliated himself in an effort to figure out if there really was a human called Seokmin who existed, there is nothing more that he wants than to just stay in bed all day. Never facing the real world, existing only in his dreams where at least Seokmin would still exist, living only in memories that right now seem so far and few. Jihoon regrets.

(“Seokmin? Did we ever have a trainee or a member called Seokmin?” Joshua tilts his head as Jihoon asks him the moment he finds him alone. He looks at the younger guy and he sees desperation in his eyes, his whole form practically crying out and Joshua cannot help but take pity on him.

“Yes, Seokmin. Do you remember—know if we had anyone with that name?” Jihoon repeats his question. His voice raspy and low, like he’s been crying for hours. Joshua’s heart breaks. He almost doesn’t want to answer the question.

But he has to. Jihoon looks at him as if he holds all the answers and Joshua knows the very act of Jihoon asking him is a testament to how desperate he is. No one approaches him for hard-hitting questions like this, unless there is an impeccable need for the truth. Everyone knows he does not lie. Joshua knows that he cannot start lying now.

So he says, despite his better judgement: “No. We did not have anyone named Seokmin.”

“Ah. All right.” Jihoon’s voice cracks and Joshua knows he is watching the destruction and the fall of someone near and dear to him. It is too late to stop it, so he just resigns to watching. There is pain on his chest and he does not know if it belongs to him or to Jihoon, perhaps both. This whole ordeal—seeing the younger like this pains him. He never really did liked seeing anyone hurt. “Thank you.”

“Any time.” Joshua nods at him and Jihoon leaves. He feels like he should do something but he does not. He is only an observer, someone who watches—never someone who directly interferes. So he watches Jihoon leave in silence, the atmosphere tense. Joshua remembers a movie he watched when he was young. A man, sentenced to a crime he did not commit, walking to his death. His shoulders tense and broad, his head no longer held up high, there is nothing left of his pride or life. He has accepted, he isn’t dead yet but he is no longer living.

So Joshua watches. He knows with such intense certainty that their next song will be a sad one.)

Yet, the voice does not stop. Instead it gets even annoyed.

“Really!” It sighs and suddenly Jihoon’s eyes open with such urgency. He knows this voice. “Wake up ‘hoonie!”

Jihoon looks and he sees him. All in His glory. As if he never disappeared, as if the events of yesterday was all a bad dream—and maybe it was. _It was a bad dream_ , Jihoon convinces himself, _he’s real and he’s here and everything that happened yesterday was all just stress—or a joke that went too far._ He looks and takes in his fill—as if any moment the man in front of him will be taken away just like that.

“Seokmin.” He breathes out, tears already on his eyes, relief in his heart. His hands are already reaching out to him. “You’re here.”

Seokmin simply looks at him, gives him a small smile yet he does not make any move to reach out to Jihoon. “You’re gonna be late.”

“I missed you.” Jihoon tells him.

“It’s way past ten am. Most of the members already left.”

“They said you weren’t real.”

“You’re needed in the studio, aren’t you?”

“ _Seokmin_.” His name feels heavy on his tongue as he starts to realize something. “Can you please hand me my phone?”

He smiles at him, wide and big—showing his teeth. His eyes isn’t the same as the Seokmin he knows. “Don’t you have hands, ‘hoonie?”

Something is oh-so very wrong.

…

 **Anomalous experiences** are benign hallucinations that aren’t caused by fatigue, sensory deprivation or intoxication and are even found in people with good mental and physical health. They are hallucinations that cannot be explained by modern scientific knowledge. Most of the times they are labelled as a paranormal phenomenon though this does not mean they’re paranormal in nature. One of the most common anomalous experiences would be the **apparitional experience** in where the experient (the one experiencing the phenomenon) would see an apparent perception of an object, human or animal in front of them. Known in popular culture as ghost, the apparitional experience is anything but.

…

“You’re not real, are you?” Jihoon’s hands are still outstretched. He doesn’t have the heart to bring them down, just in case. (Just in case what? Just in case this hallucination suddenly becomes tangible and corporeal so that Jihoon would be able to touch him? Pathetic.)

“Depends on what you consider real,” Pseudo-Seokmin shrugs, “But, I’m the best you’ll ever get.”

Jihoon holds his breath for a moment. “You’re not him.”

The atmosphere relaxes and he actually smiles at that. “That’s not gonna stop your little heart from continuing to love me though.”

Jihoon does not reply.  His hands drop to his blanket and he realizes this is better than nothing. He’ll take whatever he can get.

…

Jihoon gets out of bed after that, goes to the bath room and starts his daily routine. Seokmin trails behind him. It makes him want to believe in the notion that he’s in the world where Seokmin is real and everything is right in the world again. And for a second he can actually do that—he can suspend belief, set aside the pragmatic side of him and continue to live in a world where everything is okay and he’s all right but that’s hard to do. It’s hard to live in lies no matter how pretty and perfect and amazing it looks like.

So Jihoon looks in the mirror again, looks at the Seokmin behind him. He notices it and he smiles at Jihoon. It makes him want to punch the mirror. (He smiles in the wrong ways, it’s him—it’s his face but at the same time it’s not. That’s not how Seokmin smiles—there’s no flash of cockiness in his eyes, there’s no aura of superiority in him. This is a sham, that’s what it is—fake. A measly bootleg of the real thing.)

Jihoon touches his chin.

“You look more handsome if you don’t shave, hyung.” Seokmin says from behind him.

And thus, Jihoon ends up shaving that morning.

…

Jihoon gets out of the bathroom and goes straight to the kitchen. He avoids Joshua who seems to be looking at him with eyes that know too much, avoids Jeonghan who looks at him with eyes that wants to dig deep into his being, and he avoids anything that can remind him of Seokmin.

Seokmin, of course, trails behind him.

…

“You going to the studio later?” Seungcheol appears out of nowhere as Jihoon eats his cereal in peace. “Bumzu called me to ask you.”

Seokmin perks up from the counter he was sitting on when he enters the kitchen. His legs swing for a moment before he finally jumps up from where he was sitting. He walks over to Seungcheol and Jihoon, curiosity in his eyes and posture. He looks like a cat.

“Is this Seungcheol?” He asks, looking at Seungcheol like he’s the most interesting guy he’s ever seen. Even if Jihoon tries to remind himself that this isn’t the real Seokmin, he can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy—wishing he was the one being stared at instead—and it’s so dumb so he tries to shake away those thoughts. “He doesn’t look that leader-like. He looks like a puppy that’s been given responsibility a few sizes too big on him.”

Jihoon can’t help but snort at this. “Yeah.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. Jihoon remembers this pseudo-Seokmin isn’t real and therefore no one else can probably see him. “I don’t know what’s funny about what I said but I assume that’s a yes on the studio?”

Jihoon quickly takes a big bite of cereal in an attempt to deflect the question. Seungcheol looks unamused at him and Jihoon shrugs and points at his mouth, Seokmin looks like he’s on the verge of laughing.

“Can’t tawk. ‘m Eatin’” Jihoon says through a mouth stuffed with cereal. He takes his sweet time chewing while Seungcheol looks at him still trying his best to look unamused and responsible but Jihoon already sees the beginning of a smile on the corner of his lips.

“You know what, just message Bumzu if you’re gonna go or not.” Seungcheol sighs, already giving up. His face has a small smile on it so Jihoon knows he’s not really in trouble nor is the older really annoyed. “Besides, he did just only ask me to pass the message.”

and with Seungcheol leaving the kitchen, it brings about the loudest laughs from Seokmin. It wasn’t even that funny if you thought about it, but with how Seokmin laughs—Jihoon can’t also help the few chuckles that escape from him and all he could think about was how unfair this whole situation is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like lately my work has been only bones no meat. i dont know what to do anymore. i want to write longer but i know i shouldn't stretch stuff out. i want to write more practical but i love reading pretty things. i want to do better. am i secure in my own writing? i don't know. i probably will never be. thank you for reading. i'll do my best.


	3. monologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like... this is a Bad chapter.
> 
> oh well.

—and the genius rests in his chair as he looks at his surroundings. He feels the stare of the imposter behind him and he almost shivers. Is he afraid of him? Perhaps he is but Jihoon would rather die than admit it. He is being scared, the only thing that’s ever really scared him has already happened—this imposter has done nothing but shakes his nerves yet not tip him over the edge.

Jihoon survives. Jihoon has died once and he survived. He’ll survive an imposter that only he can see and never touch.

(Yet he looks so terrifyingly like him.

Jihoon stares at him with such intensity as he picks up details of him that only he’s ever truly noticed. He has the same eyes dulled with years of training and strengthened with years of coping, has the same hands calloused beyond belief, shows how hard he’s prepared for this life. He has the same soft hair, smells the same too—like tangerines in the summer time. Jihoon stares at him and if it weren’t for the fact that he cannot touch this imposter, maybe he would delude himself into thinking that—ah yes this is his Seokmin.

Then the imposter smiles that smile that cannot possibly be his, and it reminds Jihoon that ah—even if he so desperately wishes, he will never be Seokmin and maybe he’s accepted it. Maybe not.)

(Jihoon is only human. Jihoon is only human and it is so fucking scary that he doesn’t know what to do.)

He sighs as he rubs the bridge of his nose. Logically, he knows what to do. That’s all he’s ever been really—someone who takes the next logical step, emotions be damned. Yet his hands tremble at the thought of forgetting Seokmin, of just resigning his life with this imposter (if he’ll even stick around for the rest of his life).

Ha.

Accepting that Seokmin’s gone? Ask again in a couple of years. Maybe when Jihoon’s dead and has spent an eternity without him will he ever truly accept that Seokmin is gone.

Jihoon shakes his head. It’s not even the time to think about it (and maybe he’ll never really find an time to think about it), it’s the work day. He actually has things to do, things to check upon so he loads up Cubase, opens his folders and—

Oh?

What?

Interesting.

* * *

Jihoon goes back to the dorm with a lot on his mind and something warm grows within the confines of his chest. Something that promises him that maybe this is all just a bad dream and soon enough he’d be able to wake up from it. It takes everything he has to not squash it even if it’s barely begun to grow.

The imposter follows him around, drifting almost lazily as he does so. He’s eerily quiet for the most part, not even taunting Jihoon even once. Perhaps he’s already realized that his sole existence is the biggest insult he can ever inflict upon him.

* * *

When Jihoon reaches his room, he immediately looks under his bed.

Wait, no. Stop.

When Jihoon reaches his room after avoiding Jeonghan (who seems to give him the creeps more often than ever) and not meeting Joshua’s sympathetic eyes, he immediately looks around if there’s anyone in it, and then locks the door to his room before looking under his bed. He even checks his locks twice just to make sure it’s really locked.

The imposter whistles. “Paranoid much?”

Jihoon doesn’t give him any time of his day as he looks for something under his bed, his arm outstretched as he looks for something that might not even exist here. He’s stuffed it to the deep ends of his bed, somewhere where there’s an unlikely chance any of the others would find it since they don’t exactly fit under the bed like he does. He feels the hard wooden walls of a box and his heart sinks in relief.

It exists here.

Seventeen has moved dorms twice now and yet he’s never failed to bring this box alongside him, never also failed to hide it from the other members especially Seokmin.

Jihoon retrieves it, puts it on his lap and blows on any of the dust on top it as the imposter looks at it curiously. From an outsider, it looks like any other plain wooden box, but for Jihoon it could very well contain the secrets of the universe.

He opens the box gingerly; his hands tremble as he does. For a moment, he hesitates but that only happens for a split second. His resolve is stronger than anything else in this world at this moment, and so he continues.

The imposter laughs. “It’s getting weird now, isn’t it?”

In the box lays numerous polaroids Jihoon has taken of Seokmin, both candidly and not candidly, during their years of knowing each other. Under the known laws of this current universe, they shouldn’t exist.

(But they do.

What’s happening here?)

 

* * *

Seokmin doesn’t exist.

Jihoon knows that this is a fact of this universe, that one of the few laws in this universe is that Seokmin isn’t real, that he’s just someone Jihoon’s mind probably made up. And yet in this box are one of the few proofs that tell Jihoon he’s real—that at one point in time, he existed.

He looks at the polaroids. Touches them even. They’re real, so inexplicably real that it feels so fake. Jihoon looks at Seokmin smiling for the camera, the way his eye crinkles that is so inexplicably him. The way the sun seems to be behind him in every picture that he’s ever taken—the way Seokmin feels like the sun himself is so fucking evident in these pictures that it feels so fucking fake.

And yet here they are, real as day and night—breaking the laws of the known universe.

Jihoon looks at the ceiling. This isn’t the only thing that proves Seokmin’s existence. In his studio, in the hidden depths of his folders and documents exist writing that only Seokmin could’ve written. Exist notes and lyrics that Jihoon could _never_ write. Voice files that doesn’t sound anything like the other guys, a kind of vocal tone that only _he_ could ever have.

So what’s really happening here, huh?

“Yikes,” The imposter says as he looks on towards the box. Jihoon spares him a glance. “You’re really quite a stalker huh?”

Jihoon bristles at this. He closes the box and puts it back to where he’s always hid it but also careful to take at least one polaroid with him (the one where they’re together, Jeonghan took the photo even if it was against Jihoon’s wishes) in case the universe realizes the box exists and takes it away from him.

“No need to be offended, dear.” The imposter chuckles. “I don’t mean that in any way.”

Jihoon shoots him a dirty glare and the imposter only shrugs.

“What are you gonna do now?” He asks, as if he wasn’t just insulting Jihoon. He sits on Jihoon’s bed and looks at him curiously. He looks so much more like Seokmin now than he has ever had in the few days Jihoon saw him.

 _I don’t know_ , is on the tip of Jihoon’s tongue. He legitimately doesn’t know what he’s going to do at this point. Seokmin exists, but what’s he going to do with this little bit of information? All he knows is that he’s not that crazy yet and it’s the universe who’s truly crazy. He fiddles with his fingers as he thinks and weighs his pros and cons.

Does he look for Seokmin? Jihoon asks himself. If he looks for him—where will he even start? Screaming at the void and hoping the void gives him anything? The mirage of an answer—a hint of where Seokmin could be hiding? If he’s left Jihoon then there’s an answer to why _he’d_ done it and he’s not so sure he wants to find out.

If he doesn’t look for him—Jihoon looks at the imposter.

“I’ll look for him.” Jihoon says, taking his eyes off him and laying on the ground. “What did you expect from a fool like me?”

“You don’t even know where to start.” The imposter points out and he’s sounding more and more incredulous as he hears Jihoon spout out nonsense. “He’s left you out of his own accord—why would you even look for _him_?”

Jihoon doesn’t give him a proper answer. Yet the words are on his mind, spelling out a clear and foolish answer that goes against everything Jihoon claims he stands for, logic and reason. Even as he strives his best, he’s always been emotional—too easy to cry and too easy to love. With the thousands of _I-love-yous_ that he’s uttered to _him_ on his mind, Jihoon falls asleep on the cold hard floor—exhausted from the events of the past few hours.

And when someone sleeps, they dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twt: @jihyosol


	4. favoritism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bad chapter again? more likely than you think  
> i have an outline but i don't know what i'm doing.  
> lapslock because it's a dream, is it not?

in his sleep is a new world that doesn’t exist within the realm that mortals know exist.

jihoon opens his eyes and sees a vast land of nothingness, he looks around and he’s not quite sure if he still exists or not. its all so muddy and unclear—a mirage of some sort. a world where he knows like it’s the back of his hand and yet—he’s not so sure where he is. he feels the beginning of a headache form and then—

“ _seokmin._ ” jihoon breathes out and he reaches out to touch him—

only for his hand to pass through him again.

 “sorry, still not quite him.” this seokmin smiles again sardonically and jihoon glares at him. he looks around his surroundings, a curious glint in his eyes. “though i wonder how _i_ ended up here.”

and before jihoon can question what exactly that means—even if he wants this particular seokmin to just go away and stop reminding him of things he can never truly have—something happens. he can’t exactly pin point what exactly is wrong but in this hazy after image of a dream, there is sudden clarity that actually hurts jihoon’s mind. a sudden sharpness that he hasn’t expected that reminds jihoon of minghao abusing the sharpen filter on instagram.

“you’re not supposed to be here.” a voice unlike any other calls jihoon’s attention. “you were never supposed to be here—how are you here?”

“ _jeonghan?_ ” jihoon’s eyes widen as he recognizes the figure that’s probably causing all of this sudden clarity. “i should be the one asking that question, how are _you_ here in my dream?”

 jeonghan—no no, jihoon looks on more closely, yes this being takes on jeonghan’s face but uncanny valley works its way and this being looks as if he took jeonghan’s face and wrapped it around himself it fits, but it also _doesn’t_ fit quite perfectly and it only looks like this being is squirming underneath his mask. jihoon shivers as this jeonghan tilts his head.

“you misunderstand, lee jihoon. this isn’t any dream of yours—it’s my domain.” the being says with a voice that can only be described as hell-like. he waves his hand and suddenly indescribable monstes—eldritch abominations appear behind him, “now tell me lee jihoon, what should i do to you now? should i take my time punishing you or should i exert mercy and destroy your mind?” then he sees the imposter behind jihoon and smiles, as if this explains everything. “ah. i see.”

“you see?” jihoon can’t keep the tremble from  his voice.

“i see.” the being nods and his voice changes from being hell-like to something more—normal, human-like. with another wave of his hand, the monsters disappear. “i’m not going to punish you for trespassing upon my domain. it seems you’ve solved the mystery surrounding your seokmin.

“seokmin—what, what do you know about him?” jihoon, despite being scared out of his wits, says. he has to know the truth, even if faced with someone more powerful than he can ever hope to be. “— _who are you?”_

“who am i?” the being echoes, a mischievous smile on his face. “why, i’m the very being that took him of course!”

* * *

jihoon considerably calms down enough to finally have a proper conversation with this being. it helps that this being can restrain his movements by the virtue of the fact that he can control anything that happens within his domain.

“don’t anger him jihoon.” seokmin whispers to his ear once the being releases him from his binds. “he can kill you, you know? even if this is the dream world.”

“perhaps you should listen to your friend right there.” the being says almost bored. “honestly, i expected too much from you i daresay.”

“what did you do to seokmin?” jihoon asks, ignoring both of their advices. “ _where is he?_ ”

the being merely raises an eyebrow at him, almost amused. “why, he’s beside you, of course!”

“don’t joke around!” jihoon exclaims. “he’s not seokmin—he’s not _my_ seokmin.”

“he’s as seokmin as he gets, and perhaps the only seokmin you’ll only ever know.” the being shrugs before his eyes turn scheming. “unless—“

“ _no_. no.” the imposter behind him says, “this wasn’t—jihoon, don’t listen to whatever he’s got to say. you _can’t_ trust this being.”

“unless what?” jihoon ignores the imposter’s advice. the mere hint that he could meet seokmin again is enough to keep him driving. enough to keep him reckless.

“it’s been an entirely boring millennia.” the being says, his eyes narrowed yet filled with unbridled excitement. “there’s nothing but war and pestilence in your world and i’ve always enjoyed a good tragedy—tell you what, you entertain me, i’ll give him back to you.”

the imposter seokmin tries to hold jihoon back. yet he fails.

“what do i do then?” jihoon asks, desperation oh so evident in his voice that it makes it easier for anyone to be able to use him—to manipulate him.

“call me jeonghan, jihoon, i suspect you and i will have a lot of fun.” the smile the being gives out makes jihoon think he’s just sold his soul to the devil. “what I want you to do is easy enough. find the three reasons why he’s left and i’ll give him back to you.”

“where should i start.” jihoon tilts his head slightly. it doesn’t sound too unreasonable at all and he—he also wants to know.

“ _jihoon_. you can’t do this.” the imposter says behind him, his voice cracks. “jeonghan this wasn’t—“

“it’s easy enough.” jeonghan cuts off the imposter before he can finish his sentences. jihoon is too wrapped up with the prospect of finding seokmin that he doesn’t notice how wrecked with grief the imposter is right now. jeonghan snaps his fingers. “i suppose you can start with your memories, no?”

then the ground swallows jihoon and the imposter up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twt: @jihyosol

**Author's Note:**

> if i dont finish this shout at me at either @17cherub (tumblr) or @kafkaisque (twt)


End file.
